Wow… has it really been over 18 months since I wrote?!?!?!

There are dreams and then there is reality. I was hoping I could write a blog a month atleast and just like that time has been stolen away from life. Pregnancy, childbirth, motherhood… damn.. It looks neverending…

Pregnancy was ok. Health wise no issues except gestational diabetes. I don’t remember a lot of it already but it was a lot of carrots being dangled by supportive people about how 2nd trimester is better than 1st and how 3rd will be even better. Same with the birth and post birth. I have reached a stage where I know now that they are just that.. carrots.. the challenges change with every stage and it probably never ends. At least that’s how it feels now.

Let’s just get all the not so good stuff done with… I didn’t get to do my dream water-birth. I didn’t get to have a girl. I didn’t get twins (lol, in hindsight..thank god), I didn’t even get the normal vaginal birth, didn’t get a boy with blue eyes like Clintons. The boy decided to stay in full 40 weeks and still no contractions. I ate spicy food, had sex, climbed up 42 flights of stairs, walked… but nothing brought the contractions so I had to be induced. Barely any dilation after hours, induced again.. not much change.. water broke next morning, boy had pooped inside, I couldnt stand the contractions even with painkillers (plan was no painkillers and no epidural). But when does life go according to our plan entirely? Doctor checked and said we need to go for c-section as no water inside and boy is swimming in poop and could lead to issues. SIGH!! We cried. But his life and safety was more important than our plan. Epidural. C-section. We had planned to video the whole birth and the baby being caught by Clinton in his arms and Clinton cutting the umbilical cord. The whole dream!! Nothing!! The doctors pull him out of my belly, cut the cord, clean him up, hand him to Clinton for skin to skin for an hour while they wheel me in a semi coherent state to my room.

I am in a huge amount of pain from all the slicing of layers of my belly and then sewing it up and my belly looks weird. Air, gas, organs moving around in the empty space that the baby has left. I realise I cant move my legs and butt is numb. Finally the baby arrives. The nurse latches the baby to my breast and disappears. My face is exhausted and I smile through all the pain. I don’t get to do skin to skin as I am in so much pain and it doesn’t occur to me for days that we never got to bond that way.

OMG.. am I glad I had booked the confinement center that Clinton wasn’t sure if I would need if we had a normal dream birth and I had no issues. God laughs at our plans. Ohh well. The first 4 months, I can barely walk much, I am in pain and not really able to enjoy the whole motherhood experience a lot. I feed the boy, care for him, love him but my body demands so much from me to heal that I barely get to do a lot with him. I hate my body, my belly, the stretch marks and just feel like this is not what I wanted. We say goodbye to Malaysia after the whole passport and birth certificate fiasco and come to the US.

I’m finally coming around to accept my body 5 months postpartum and spending some quality time with the boy and enjoying him growing up and all the changes that are happening. He learns to crawl, sit and attempts to stand by the time he is 6/7 months. We move to Mexico as I don’t have a green card and we can still drive across the border for Trainings and work. Phew. Luckily we find a great house for rent and beach is closeby and build a stash of alcohol in the cabinet to have lots of cocktails while watching sunsets in the inflatable jacuzzi (such a great buy).

The boy starts climbing up the stairs at 7 months and is very excited. He is having avocados and guacamole and strawberries etc. Then moves on to sausages and bacon and rice and curry. He is growing up fast. Starts walking at 10 months. He skips the whole pacifier, bottle, baby food phase and just wanted breastfeeding and whatever we are eating, later.

We’ve witnessed his … his first cry, first Fathers Day, first rolling over, first time on swing, first massage and bath at home, first buggy ride, first crib, first time grabbling things using fingers, then using thumb, first attempt to raise head, raise hips, first wave, first hi-five, first tux, first fall off the bed, first bump, first stamp on passport, first time sitting up with help, first trip to beach, first time in pool, first ice-cream, chocolate, soup, food, first Diwali, first crawl, first halloween, our first pumpkin carvings, pumpkin patch, first time sitting up himself, first time pulling himself up to stand, first time touching dog and cat, first thanksgiving, first jacuzzi, first photo with Santa, first Polar Express, first time in Mexico, first sip of water, first Christmas tree, first Disney Park, first walker, first wonder of the world(Chichén Itzá), first sushi, first Christmas, first clap, first step, first high chair, da da da da, ma ma ma ma, first remote control car, first, raspberries on my belly, first Valentines Day, first formal shirt and suit, first climbing down the stairs, first pair of teeth, first time walking into the sea, first safe climbing down bed, first time opening doors, first hugs, first time getting hurt and bleeding, first walking backward, first dancing, first Mother’s Day, first zoo, first pony ride, first Birthday, first kiss to me, first hugs, first nodding yes and no, first time on boogie board, first kiss to Clinton…. and so many more moments.

I never wanted to be a mother, never wanted to have kid/s, nver wanted the responsibility of another human on my shoulders. My life was more than enough for me to manage and handle. Clinton could not have children for 25 years. Not with his first wife, not with his second wife. With his second wife they did IVF treatments etc and when nothing worked they adopted a boy. Aidan. Clinton was told that he could not father a child. I did not want a child. Great match. And yet here we are. With our 14 month old little miracle who decided – I don’t care whether you can have children or want children.. I choose you and I am coming. And he arrived.

Apart from the physical pain and trauma it has been an emotional rollercoaster for Clinton and me. More for me as I am the primary caretaker for Ethan. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to love my son. I have never connected with kids or enjoyed time with them ever in my life (Except Leo and Dean briefly in our short encounters). Well, the good thing that happened was I could connect with Ethan and fall in love with him and have the special mother child bond that is so magical. I understand his needs without hum having to communicate much and am intuitive. It all helps. Whether it’s the hormones or parental bias, we think he is just adorable.

However, it is not all rainbows all the time. It is damn hard work to keep a child alive, happy and smiling. I haven’t had one good night sleep in 14 months. He wakes up every hour or 2 hours to feed/soothe at night. I am his human pacifier. And even though I choose to be one, it is a struggle. Not having uninterrupted sleep for months and having to feed him, calm him and now figure out his 3 meals takes a toll. He needs constant attention. The mental load is overwhelming to the point of burnout. I take one day at a time and wait for the day to end. Only for another one to begin. There is much joy in the smiles, hugs and laughter of the child and yet there is the constant stress and pain too. There is no time for anything else in life. No time for relationship, intimacy, sex, movies, cooking elaborate meals, dancing, reading, exercising, training… just nothing. So I am left with being a mother all the time which hurts. I don’t just want to be a mother. The Princess D I was has been lost in the whole motherhood episode. And losing that identity is frustrating and agonizing. There is a lot of grief in that loss. Life will never be the same again, they say. But no one tells you the harsh truth of how much life would be different. How much you will struggle to even have a peaceful shower or how you could go for days without brushing your hair.

I cry regularly because I feel I am about to break and I am overwhelmed. The resentment towards your spouse and mom guilt are very real. The rollercoaster is very real. The struggle is real. And so is the snuggle. I speak to my therapist every week. I enjoy cooking for my boy and it makes me happy that we do a lot of homemade stuff for him. We are grateful that he is very healthy and happy. He is mischievous and laughs a lot when he is being naughty. When the boy runs towards me and hugs me, time stops and my heart melts and it is an indescribable feeling. And yet there is a lot of pain, struggle and trauma along the way. I have to remember that I am choosing this. I have to remember that I chose this and that it won’t always be the same, even if it feels like it will. I already miss so many things that he has stopped doing. I miss his half bear crawl, his so many phases that are now a distant memory. I have to remind that what is, won’t be and I will miss it. And I do my best to be present and savour the moment. I love my boy very much.